


Trust Me

by apostapals (apostapal)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Gender-Neutral Hawke, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:05:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7853692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apostapal/pseuds/apostapals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill. Varric's got a plan that may or may not be a good one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Me

“Do you trust me?”

Hawke made a face, eyes scrunching shut and lips pursed–like they’d eaten something sour, and shook their head.

“Varric. Why do you have to put me on the spot like that?”

The dwarf stared up at them expectantly. “Well?” he asked.

“No! Okay? No.” Hawke blurted, throwing their head to the side and refusing to look at him. “You lie literally all the time! I feel like trusting you would really be a lack of understanding of who you are as a person, on a fundamental level.”

Varric felt like he should be offended. Like, perhaps, the fact that his best friend of over six years now not trusting him was something he should be hurt by. But he couldn’t do it–Hawke looked too guilty, face buried in their hands directly after speaking. He laughed.

“Maker, Hawke, you do know me.” he chuckled, rubbing a hand through his hair.

Hawke dared to look down at him, smiled weakly, and reached out a hand. Varric took it, gripped it firmly, and pressed the knuckles to his cheek. They stood like that a moment, both smiling nervously, and then he sighed.

“Anyway. I have a plan.”

“You are the worst at plans. Absolutely horrid.” Hawke managed to mumble–trying to fight down worry at the very idea of ‘Varric’ and ‘ideas that required a large amount of trust’.

The dwarf just put on his bravest grin.

“You know me. You know I could bullshit my way out of a burlap sack, right?” Hawke nodded, so Varric went on, “I think… I can lead them off track. I’ll just–”

“Varric, _no_.”

Hawke’s voice was fearful but firm, eyes narrowed at him, and Varric let out a long sigh. The Champion’s grip on his hand tightened.

“Hawke, they don’t know about _us_.” he pressed, refusing to meet their gaze, “I’m in no danger of being used against you. They’ll grill me for information and I’ll give them whatever I feel like that day.”

But he knew the look Hawke had without looking. That self-destructive streak; being more willing to throw themselves in the line of fire than have anyone they cared about potentially hurt. But the distances between the group and the Seekers were getting smaller and, if there was talk of splitting up, Varric had an idea how to make things safer.

“Stay with Blondie, Maker knows he needs someone looking after him, and I’ll find you again when it’s safe.” he went on, eyes still on Hawke’s boots, “Let someone else put their ass on the line for you for once.”

Hawke sighed, a big heavy thing, and Varric looked up to find their lip jutted out in what would normally be a rather comical pout. Now, somehow even in all its absurdity, it just made Varric feel worse.

“If they hurt you–”

“Don’t worry, I’m too charming for that.” Varric assured them, moving Hawke’s hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the knuckles, “You know that.”

“I still don’t trust you.” Hawke warned, still pouting like someone told them they couldn’t have another mabari. Varric laughed.

“I know.”

They sighed again, softer this time, and nodded, “Okay. I don’t like it, but okay.”

Varric just grinned.

“Hawke, you worry too much. You won’t even have time to miss me.”


End file.
